Seventeen

I found Pluto in a bathroom stall

in a rundown bar in Dublin.

It was hard to look at her wane smile,

wan skin, the disfigured shape of her curves.

But she looked up at me, cool doze of her eyes,

and I saw the ice churn inside her

as she bared her hydrogen soaked veins

under creaking florescent lights.

She looked up at me and I could see

the red smear of blood down south,

the oozing core of hers,

the giving, giving, aching body of hers,

And I smiled.